Quasi-tangibility isn't about something being *actually* tangible, or not. It’s a persistent state of being – a shimmer at the edges of perception where what was once firmly held as solid begins to dissolve into an unsettling echo.
It began, I think, with recordings. Not just audio recordings, though those certainly played a role – the hiss of old magnetic tape, the deliberate distortion of early synthesizers, the almost-imperceptible tremor in a voice captured across decades. But also, recordings of memory itself. The way we attempt to reconstruct events, layering assumptions and emotions onto the raw data of experience, creating something that feels both familiar and profoundly alien.
Consider a childhood photograph. The colors are faded, the faces blurred with time, but within that distortion lies a potent sense of *being*. You can almost taste the summer air, feel the warmth of the sun on your skin, even if you weren’t actually present when it was taken. That's the first flicker of quasi-tangibility – a ghost limb of sensation attached to an absent object.
Modernity has amplified this phenomenon exponentially. Algorithms curate our realities, presenting us with filtered versions of information designed to maximize engagement. These aren't simply data streams; they’re constructed narratives that subtly reshape our understanding of the world. The more we interact with these systems, the less stable our sense of grounding becomes.
"The digital is not a mirror," writes Dr. Evelyn Reed in her seminal work on subjective simulation, "but a lens - constantly refracting and distorting the original light."
Touch
Observe
Reflect
Listen
The concept of quasi-tangibility resonates with several philosophical traditions. Bergson's notion of *durée*, the flowing, heterogeneous stream of time, offers a compelling framework. Similarly, Deleuze’s emphasis on “rhizomes” – decentralized networks without hierarchical structure – mirrors the unstable connections at the heart of this experience.
"Reality," argues philosopher Silas Vance, "is not a fixed object to be grasped, but a process of becoming, constantly shaped by our perceptions and interactions."
Ultimately, quasi-tangibility isn’t about finding a definitive answer. It's an invitation to embrace the ambiguity, the unsettling feeling that something significant exists just beyond our grasp – a trace of presence in the void, an echo of what was, or might be.